


Homecoming

by tristesses



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Double Penetration, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mentions of impregnation, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Post-Canon, Threesome - F/M/M, Xeno, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 13:58:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18447989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tristesses/pseuds/tristesses
Summary: Thrawn returns to the Ascendancy.





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fairleigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairleigh/gifts).



> Tfw you mean to write a PWP then write 6k+ words instead
> 
> Anyway, I really hope you like this, Fairleigh! I had an absolute blast writing it.
> 
> Thank you to Those Friends (you know who you are) for the encouragement/beta, to the people who wrote [this Cheunh translator](http://starwars.myrpg.org/coruscant_translator.php), and to [anthean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthean/pseuds/anthean)'s [Faking Cheunh for Fun and Profit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17648327) for helping me polish up the translator's vocab.

Thrawn was sprawled across the bed, hair disheveled, his uniform stripped away to show lean muscles and the vestiges of scars. 

In his hands he held a deck of playing cards.

"The first lesson of card games," he said as he dealt them, "is that cards cannot be played in random order."

Eli frowned at him. He had no recollection of picking up the cards, but they were in his hand all the same. He glanced down at them, and for a moment saw only an incomprehensible fluid diagram; then he blinked and the diagram separated into the familiar parts of Cheunh sentences. His vision stuttered again and the cards were a King's Lane.

"Why are you quoting yourself?" he asked Thrawn, who blinked his glowing eyes slowly, almost lazily.

"Sometimes events are random," Thrawn said. "Sometimes cards are dealt which are not part of the game. And it is with those cards that you win—or lose."

This fake-deep kraytspit didn't sound much like Thrawn. What it _did_ sound like was Eli's brain trying to sound like Thrawn. He was dreaming.

Well, if this was a dream—

"I miss you," he told Thrawn, who frowned infintesimally.

"You are missing the point, Eli," he said. "When the time comes, ask Admiral Ar'alani for assistance. You will know when."

"How will I know?" Eli asked as the cards dissolved in his hands. Thrawn stood, magnificently naked, and reached for his uniform, which had turned into the matted furs he had been wearing when Eli first met him.

"I trust you, Eli," he said. "Sleep well."

"Wait—"

But Eli was lunging towards nothing but a dream, disappearing between his fingers like smoke.

* * *

Somewhere there was a beeping. It took Eli a minute to place it, it'd been so long since he'd heard the sound. His Imperial comlink, which he should've ditched instead of rewiring it to remove the tracker inside. Sentimental. Ar'alani would sigh at him. Well, her lips would thin infintesimally and she would stare at him until he looked away, which was like a sigh to the Chiss.

Struggling out of sleep, Eli rolled out of bed and groped for the comlink, flicking it on to receive the message.

It was staticky and garbled, but Eli could make something out.

"— -11165.27, -5185.38, -11165.27, -5185.38—"

Just those numbers, repeating over and over. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they were. Coordinates, in Imperial units.

"Thrawn," Eli whispered.

* * *

Mitth'raw'nuruodo had taught the human well. Ar'alani had to give him that, at least.

Eli'vanto. No family name; he had chosen the sensible option and enlisted in Defense Intelligence instead of trying to get an in with one of the Ruling Families. That  would have been next to impossible for an alien sent to the Ascendancy by an exile and supported only by one lone admiral. In DI, Eli'vanto's unusual perception and even more unusual perspective could be put to far better use. Although the man was not, Ar'alani sensed, entirely happy playing informant to the Defense Hierarchy.There was always a shadow around him, the sense that secrets trembled on his tongue he would not share.

Ar'alani wanted those secrets.

Across the room, Eli'vanto's head turned and his eyes met hers. Strange eyes, pupilled and without bioluminescence, like an animal's. Some Chiss couldn't meet his gaze: the sheltered ones, the Aristocras and Syndics who had never stepped foot on a foreign planet, much less traded with other species—or, as in Ar'alani's case, did the dance of diplomacy and war with them. 

She couldn't help but pity them, a little. So unimaginative, so lacking in vision.

Ar'alani held Eli'vanto's gaze, unblinking. Humans needed to lubricate their eyes far more often than Chiss did, lacking the microorganisms that protected Chiss eyes from the elements and lent them the glow other species found so intriguing, and so Eli'vanto broke eye contact first, glancing down and away. 

Ar'alani saw the crease of his forehead, which she had learned was indicative of thinking or frustration; Eli'vanto's expressions were so much more exaggerated than she was used to, and slightly wrong, like a _veutun'i_ strung just barely out of tune. If only she could read them more clearly. Mitth'raw'nuruodo could have, she was certain.

She set her drink down and made her way across the room to Eli'vanto, keeping her eyes forward as the lower ranks snapped into salutes as she walked past, as was proper. 

Eli'vanto saw her coming, of course, and made his own salute to her, left hand upon right shoulder, with a little bow. Still not as crisply as even the youngest Chiss cadets. Well, he would learn.

"Enjoying the occasion?" she asked him in Cheunh, not bothering to speak slowly. His Cheunh was good enough that his reliance on Sy Bisti was simply a feeble grasp for something familiar, and Ar'alani was losing patience with it.

"It's interesting," Eli'vanto replied, his voice thickly accented but understandable. "As always."

He was guarded tonight. Ar'alani glanced around the room; there were many interested observers peering at them, but there always were. His discomfort could not be from that. 

She switched to the language he had been teaching her, a useful trade secret that he nonetheless would not share with the rest of Defense Intelligence. It charmed her that he thought he could trust her that far.

He was right, but she wouldn't let him know that.

"Is there something wrong," she asked. There was a peculiar lift to the end of a sentence when asking a question in _Basich_ that she was never quite able to replicate, but Eli'vanto understood. 

He glanced at her from under long lashes and took a quick sip of his drink.

"I've received a transmission," he said, and even though the words were spoken in her fourth language, Ar'alani could hear the tension in his voice.

There was only one being whose transmission would have to be kept secret from those not in DI. Only one with the power to shake Eli'vanto to the point where he couldn't control his voice. She opened her mouth to ask, but Eli'vanto cut her off.

"He's coming home. And I need your help."

* * *

Home.

Thrawn had barely dared to think the word in years. Home—not the _Chimaera_ , not the _Thunder Wasp_ or any of the other ships on which he'd served throughout his career in the Imperial Navy, but this: the dim shuttle bay of a Chiss starship, where they communicated in clear Cheunh and heat signatures inscribed upon the bulkheads; the gentle hum of the hyperdrive; the scent of Csillan herbs permeating the air, so unlike the antiseptic smell of an Imperial starship. Blue-skinned beings clad in crisp black uniforms strode past him, intent on their missions, buffeting him like an asteroid caught in the wake of a black hole.

None of them would meet his eyes.

It was understandable, of course. Thrawn had no idea of his social standing in the Ascendancy; he hadn't been able to communicate with Ar'alani, and he could only assume that Eli had arrived safely because his most recent message on Imperial channels hadn't bounced back.

There was a nagging thought that anyone could have been on the other side of that comm. Thrawn had never received a response. He put the doubt aside. Even if Eli wasn't—there was nothing he could do about it now. Better to address problems as they came up.

Although he would keep the possibility in the back of his mind, as he kept all possibilities, no matter how much they might hurt.

He was acutely aware of how he was perceived by the Chiss around him, bedraggled and long-haired, little better than he'd been when the _Strikefast_ had found him. He had lost nearly all of his uniform, and wore a motley collection of clothes gathered on various planets through the Unknown Regions: a violently purple tunic, dyed with the blood of the swamp rancor on Zakuul; trousers made out of animal hide, rugged boots made from Syntex that were his most prized possession, bulky and displeasing to the eye as they were. They were nonetheless the hardiest item of clothing he wore, and Thrawn knew the importance of good shoes.

There were the scars, too, many more of them than he had left Csilla with. He bore marks of a life lived outside the boundaries of society, and thus the Chiss on board the _Sunsnake_ did not know what to do with him. He wondered what story Ar'alani had concocted to explain his absence. He wondered if he was to be welcomed as a Trial-Born member of the Eighth Ruling Family, or as a defector. He wondered if Eli had missed him.

There was a dim roar as a shuttle docked. The room had already been outfitted for a person of Ar'alani's rank. The only thing out of place was Thrawn.

He kept his gaze level and his expression neutral as the doors swished open and Ar'alani strode into the room.

She looked noticeably older—it had been nearly fourteen years, and it showed in the wrinkles on her face and the dimness of her eyes—but that was all he noticed, as his gaze skipped over Ar'alani and landed on the man behind her.

 _Eli_.

He too bore the signs of the passing of time, a crease in his forehead where there hadn't been one, lines around his lips, but these would not have been perceptible to a person without an intensely detailed mental image of Eli's face to begin with. 

Thrawn wanted to touch him.

Instead, Ar'alani stepped forward and took Thrawn's shoulders in her hands, as if to shake him; but of course she wouldn't be so crude. Instead, she examined his face for a long moment, and Thrawn spent a moment enjoying the sight of her glowing eyes, their comforting familiarity. 

He had seen eyes like that only in a mirror for a very long time.

Then her eyes narrowed. Once, he and Ar'alani had known each other very well indeed; he was glad he hadn't lost the knack for interpreting her expression.

 _Do not ruin this for me_ , her eyes said. _Follow my lead_. And she leaned in close and pressed her lips to his. 

Her lips were warm and unfamiliar. It had been so long since he'd been intimate with another Chiss, and now long-dormant hormones were stirring inside him.

"Mitth'raw'nuruodo," Ar'alani  announced once she'd pulled back, her voice carrying throughout the suddenly silent shuttle bay. "Consort. Welcome home."

So that was how she wished to play the game. Very well.

Thrawn averted his eyes from Eli's shocked gaze, and replied, "I honor you, consort."

He was adept at dealing with the unexpected. He would deal with this.

* * *

Eli had no idea what was going to happen next.

Oh, Ar'alani had explained it: the tradition of members of the Defense Hierarchy taking consorts, unofficial lovers that came with no legal ties to Families or Houses. But there were implicit _social_ ties, and by declaring Thrawn her consort, Ar'alani had effectively put him under her protection: mess with Thrawn, and Ar'alani and her considerable political power would come down on you. It wasn't that different from how she had protected Eli, as a matter of fact, guiding him into Defense Intelligence and taking a personal interest in his education—it was a very Chiss thing to do.

So even though it had made his stomach twist to watch her kiss Thrawn, he had been silent. And now he was watching Thrawn and Ar'alani carry on a rapid-fire conversation in Cheunh, one that had a lot of "Consider this—ah, but that—" and sage nods involved. It was too quick and too full of incomplete sentences for Eli to properly follow. The language of two people who had once known each other very well. And maybe something else, judging from the way their bodies were leaning toward each other, like neither of them noticed or could prevent it.

Eli felt the acrid tinge of jealousy burning in the back of his throat, and swallowed it. He and Thrawn—what they had would eclipse whatever was going on between Thrawn and Ar'alani. Eli had to have faith in that. If they had risked court martial for improper conduct and the following social ostracization for each other…it couldn't have been that shallow. And Thrawn had trusted him with his journal, and more importantly, with the location of the Ascendancy. That wasn't casual. That wouldn't be easily thrown away.

If Eli was certain of that, he wouldn't be so frantically trying to reassure himself.

While Eli was gloomily focused inward, Ar'alani and Thrawn must have finished what they were discussing, because Ar'alani stood up and took a step back from Thrawn, who leaned back and blinked his eyes slowly.

"We will discuss this more tomorrow," she said, and glanced at Eli. "I will leave you to get reacquainted with Eli'vanto."

There was a hint of mockery in her voice, Eli thought. She knew, and she disapproved. Chiss didn't take kindly to mixed-species relationships.

Or maybe that was her natural supercilioiusness showing through. Eli liked her most of the time, but she could be awfully condescending.

"Thank you, Admiral," Thrawn said, but didn't stand as she exited, like Eli did, as was respectful.

With her gone, Eli turned his gaze on Thrawn, who was staring back at him with the intensity Eli associated with his art appreciate. Like Eli was fine art. Like Eli was all he cared about.

So things hadn't changed after all.

Eli flushed.

"Come," Thrawn said, "sit," and gestured to the chair next to him that Ar'alani had just vacated. Eli sat. He opened his mouth, unsure what to say. Thrawn watched him with intent glowing eyes.

"Tell me everything," Eli said.

Thrawn arched an eyebrow—one with a jagged scar running through it, barely avoiding his eye, and angling down into his temple. The years had been hard for him, and Eli felt it keenly.

"Everything?" he murmured. "Perhaps you should begin, as your time in the Ascendancy is of more immediate import."

Eli wanted to press the issue, but knew it was pointless to argue when Thrawn used that tone. Instead, he launched into a quick summary of events: his arrival in the Ascendancy, Ar'alani funneling him into Defense Intelligence, his fury when he found out about the child _ozyly-esehembo_ and how that almost got him kicked out of the Ascendancy altogether—Thrawn looked like he would like to speak then, but Eli bowled him over; if he wanted Eli to speak first, he was going to listen—and his slow realization that there was nothing he could do to change Chiss society on such a drastic level. His listlessness as of late.

"Then I heard your transmission…" he said, and trailed off. Thrawn was watching him with a strange expression on his face.

"You have done well here," he said. "Far better than I fared in Imperial space."

"Tell me about it," Eli said, meaning it, but Thrawn shook his head.

"Later," he said, and stood. "Come here."

He went to the bed.

In a holonovel, Eli would know exactly where this was going. But things were still strange and tense between them, and while Eli wasn't exactly complaining, it didn't seem very Thrawn-like to jump into bed immediately. He'd want to gather all the intel he could first.

Eli joined Thrawn on the bed. And once he sat down, close to Thrawn—something changed. A tension in the air, a tightness in Eli's chest. Liquid heat suffused his body. He blinked at Thrawn. Eli had gotten used to being surrounded by Chiss, blue-skinned, red-eyed, with their forehead ridges and their sharp cheekbones, but Thrawn was still the most beautiful person he'd seen. Even twelve years later, even with the long hair and the scars. _Especially_ with the scars.

"I must disclose something to you," Thrawn said, tracing the curve of Eli's jaw with one cool finger. Chills broke out along Eli's arms and back, and he leaned into the touch without quite realizing it. "When Ar'alani touched me—"

"Kissed you, you mean?" Eli retorted. All right, maybe he was a little sensitive.

Thrawn gave him a level look, and continued, "She triggered something called the _vamsca'tut_. Have you heard of it?"

 _Vamsca'tut_ , related to the root word _tut'ut_ , meaning people, and possibly…

" _Vam?_ " Eli said aloud, then in Basic. "Possession? No one's mentioned it."

"They wouldn't," Thrawn murmured. He pulled his hand back as if it took a lot of willpower. "It is nothing to be ashamed of, but nothing a Chiss would discuss with an alien." He fixed his piercing eyes on Eli.

"It is the breeding instinct," he said, "which is triggered by pheromones when two Chiss of compatible biology touch."

He was using his teacher voice, which Eli had always found a little hot. He tried to focus on what Thrawn was saying.

"So you two are going to…mate?" he asked. The mental image of Thrawn and Ar'alani twisted together and writhing suddenly flashed into his mind, and it was strangely unobjectionable. Almost appealing.

"Perhaps," Thrawn said thoughtfully. "Ar'alani is far too old to carry a child. And I am approaching that threshold. The fact the _vamsca'tut_ took hold of us is surprising—"

"Wait," Eli interrupted. "You could do what now?"

Well, they _were_ aliens. Eli thought back on it, and realized he couldn't say what gender the pregnant Chiss he'd seen had been. He'd assumed they were women. But that was just an assumption, and—

This explained some things about Thrawn's body he had always been curious about.

But while he was thinking about this, other parts of his mind were putting this scattered information together, drawing a conclusion.

"The _vamsca'tut_ is affecting me," he realized, and Thrawn nodded.

"I didn't anticipate it would affect a human," he said, "or I would not have invited you into these quarters. I apologize for the unintended consequences."

"Shut up," Eli said, disregarding the amazing sight of Thrawn saying he was sorry, for once.

He pushed Thrawn flat on the bed and swung a leg over to straddle him.

"Ah," Thrawn said, and his hands went to Eli's hips. "You are sure—"

"Yeah, I'm sure," Eli said, and took his face in his hands. His skin was cool, familiar. Eli took a moment to study his face, the angles he had memorized, the curve of his lips…

He traced a finger down the new scar. "Where did this come from?"

"A bar fight on Jakku," Thrawn said in a rather strangled voice. Eli blinked at the sheer ludicrousness of Thrawn being in a _bar fight_ , and sat back—just in time to feel something thick underneath him squirm.

"Oh," Eli said, and grinned. "You _are_ excited."

"I explained to you—"

"I know," Eli said. "And don't worry—" Thrawn wasn't, he knew. "—I remember how to handle this."

He wanted to take his time with it. Really, he did. But it had been years since he'd seen Thrawn, and maybe they had a lot more to discuss, but there was a time and a place for that and this was neither.

But Thrawn upended his plans by taking Eli by the waist and flipping him over, not gently, and taking him by the high collar of his black DI-standard tunic.

"You look good in this uniform," he said, and there was a tone to his voice Eli had never heard before—almost a snarl, which was then punctuated by Thrawn ripping open the tunic, sending the zipper sliders flying.

"Do I look better out of it?" Eli asked breathlessly, and Thrawn gave him a stern look before leaning down and tonguing Eli's nipples.

Somehow they wrestled each other out of their clothes, and then Thrawn was magnificently naked before him. Between his legs, his _k'setim'i_ was coiling, thick and dripping violet liquid.

"Like the curve of the ammonite, so lies the _k'setim'i_ ," Eli intoned in Cheunh, a quote from an ancient and allegedly erotic epic.

He gave a delirious laugh at Thrawn's incredulous look and said, "What? I can read poetry."

"You are," Thrawn said, and stopped.

"What am I?" Eli asked.

Thrawn hesitated, then said, "Your presence was missed on the bridge, Eli."

"Yeah," Eli said, tugging him close. "I missed you too."

Then lips and tongues and hands were roaming all over, taking the time to touch and caress like they were seldom able to do before. Eli touched Thrawn's new scars and asked for explanations for each one.

There was a thick white scar on his stomach, which, according to Thrawn, was from when purgill tentacles had broken his belt buckle and driven the shards into his flesh.

"Purgill?" Eli asked increduously. "Seriously?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Thrawn said dryly. "Later."

The scar inhibiting the use of his left hand was from acid—"An unfortunate lab accident," Thrawn said, and refused to give other context—and there were a dozen other scrapes and slices that were simply the result of small injuries and a lack of bacta or medical care. Eli touched each one reverently, wishing he could have been there for at least some of them.

But Thrawn was antsy and squirming, and Eli figured that talking time was over. He kissed Thrawn, who returned it eagerly, and reached for his _k'setim'i_.

"No," Thrawn said, catching his wrist. Eli felt a flicker of hurt.

"What?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"

"It has to be a Chiss," Thrawn said. "Only mating with another Chiss can sate the _vamsca'tut_. It can't be you, Eli."

Eli digested that for a moment.

"Well," he said, "guess we'd better go find Ar'alani."

* * *

Ar'alani was aware of the wave of pheromones drifting off her as she paced through the ship. Her crew was certainly aware of it, the unmated ones turning their heads to scent her as she walked past, the mated ones glancing at each other as the pheromones prompted them to draw closer.

She should be proud of it: she had found a mate that her body decided was biologically sound. Not all Chiss achieved that, whether they were married triads or paired consorts. 

Instead she was furious.

She had misstepped. She had known Eli'vanto had strong feelings for Mitth'raw'nuruodo—she had _known_ —but she had never imagined how deep they went. Eli'vanto's horrified expression when she'd kissed Mitth'raw'nuruodo was seared into her mind, and so was the way Mitth'rawn'nuruodo had gone rigid beneath her hands. Ar'alani would never have guessed a Chiss could feel that way for another species.

Eli'vanto should have told her, and then she wouldn't have trapped them all in this farce. Triads were common for marriages but unheard of for consort pairings, and an alien involved in one? Impossible.

Her body was hot, and when she glanced down she could see the glowing cyclical patterns of heat radiating down her torso as her body pumped more pheromones into her veins. Her thoughts were growing scattered. It was time to go to her quarters.

Once there, she stripped down, stepped into the shower, and programmed in the normal Chiss body temperature for the spray. She had never experienced _vamsca'tut_ before. Perhaps the rumors that water could hold it at bay were true.

It didn't take her very long in the shower to find out they weren't.

One moment Ar'alani was leaning against the shower wall, trying to concentrate on the details of the water reclamation system to stave off her urges, and the next, she was on her knees, collapsed against the shower wall, her hands mindlessly roving her body. 

She felt lit on fire, like flames were rippling over her skin in near-painful waves. Her nipples, which she never much noticed on the average day, were almost cruelly sensitive, and between her legs, her _lzatim'i_ were unfurling, the purple ichor coating them starting to liquify and drip down her thighs, the central ovipositor beginning to thicken. She gripped her hands in tight fists, her nails digging into her palms, and tried to breathe normally. Damn Mitth'raw'nuruodo, and damn Eli'vanto too.

She barely heard the door chime, or the hiss as it slid open. Triple damn Eli'vanto, to whom she had given an access card to her quarters some years ago and never revoked.

There were footsteps, and then the door to the refresher slid open, and she was hit with a wall of scent that made her choke with desire.

"Admiral—" Eli'vanto was saying, but she had risen and dragged herself out of the still-running shower, gripping the doorframe and staring at Mitth'raw'nuruodo. He was freshly bathed, hair still damp, but she could still smell Eli'vanto on him. The way they were angled toward each other reminded her of two in a mated triad, but Mitth'raw'nuruodo's eyes were wide and fixed on her.

"Come here," she said in a hiss.

And Mitth'raw'nuruodo, intractable and proud Mitth'raw'nuruodo, obeyed.

He was not, however, a limp little thing ready to be taken, for which Ar'alani was grateful; she detested partners who made no effort in bed. He kissed her hard, mirroring her force, his teeth scraping along her lower lip. She grabbed him by the hips, pulling him flush against her body, her fingers digging into the hard muscle of his flanks. 

She was aware that Eli'vanto was watching, aware of both his shock and interest, and she noted it for later. For now, she was mostly concerned with the layers of fabric preventing her from touching Mitth'raw'nuruodo's skin, hot like a fever to all her senses.

"Take this off," she ordered, but he was already doing so, and he gave her a sharp look, as if she'd been insubordinate. As if she wasn't the highest-ranking admiral in the Defense Hierarchy. 

She glared back. He had always been freakishly self-possessed; his time as an officer in Eli'vanto's Empire had only accentuated that.

Some of her past partners had called her controlling, even domineering, in bed. Ar'alani preferred to think of herself as confident. She knew what she wanted, and what she wanted right now was Mitth'raw'nuruodo naked and on his back.

He stripped out of his clothing with military efficiency. She looked him over with a thoughtful gaze; he bore so many scars now, evidence of a hard-lived life. Was medical care that hard to come by in the Empire? What sort of people were they?

She stepped close again as soon as he was naked, cupping his cheeks in her palms and running her thumbs over his lips. Soft and swollen from kissing, and not because of her. He and Eli'vanto had been involved in something else before biology had dragged him to her quarters.

He took her by the hips and pulled her closer, until she was pressed against him, chest to chest, hips to hips, his _k'setim'i_ rubbing against her _lzatim'i_ , twisting against her ovipositor. Chiss were tall, as a rule; they both towered over Eli'vanto, but Mitth'raw'nuruodo had a few centimeters on her too. It didn't matter. She curled her fingers into his hair and pulled until he gasped and went loose against her, then let go and smoothed her hands over the thick black locks. No, height certainly didn't matter.

Her gaze snagged on Eli'vanto, who was watching Mitth'raw'nuruodo nuzzling her neck with a mixture of envy and interest on his face. There was a bulge in his pants. Ar'alani found herself curious as to what it was.

Behind Mitth'raw'nuruodo's back, she made a curt gesture at Eli'vanto to come closer. He glanced around, as if there was someone else she could possibly be pointing to. Ar'alani gestured again, more impatiently.

When he stepped forward and slid his hands up Mitth'raw'nuruodo's back, his touch gentle, Mitth'raw'nuruodo's head fell back and he leaned into Eli'vanto's arms, caught between Ar'alani's iron grip on his hips and Eli'vanto's affectionate embrace.

"I don't believe you're dressed for the occassion," he said to Eli'vanto, glancing first at Ar'alani as if seeking her approval, or perhaps simply her consent. She jerked her head in a nod; she'd invited the human in the first place.

As Eli'vanto hurriedly undressed, she pushed Mitth'raw'nuruodo toward the bed. Her _lzatim'i_ were aching and swollen, and she wanted some attention paid to them.

He knew exactly where she was going with this, gripping her thighs when she swung herself over his face. One of his hands was extremely weak, and she could feel an odd texture against her leg; scarring. She would have to have the medics look him over and see what they could fix.

That was for a later date; right now, she pressed his face into her _lzatim'i_ , groaning as he sucked at the softly-waving frills. Her ovipositor rubbed against his chin as he found her entrance and licked inside her; she could see the violet liquid dripping down his neck. His tongue swirled in circles across her _lzatim'i_ , and her eyes fluttered shut as her body tensed and quivered.

She opened them again when she felt an additional weight on the bed and Mitth'raw'nuruodo twitch underneath her: Eli'vanto, naked and fascinatingly alien, his brown skin a stark contrast to the familiar blue of Mitth'raw'nuruodo's leg where his hand rested. 

Ar'alani's eyes dropped between his legs. A single thick rod, almost stalk-like, with a curiously bulbous head and what looked like a fleshy sac behind it. It was strange, but she supposed it wasn't so unlike her ovipositor, which was also fairly rigid, even if Eli'vanto's didn't appear to be prehensile.

Eli'vanto stroked Mitth'raw'nuruodo's thigh, and he quivered. Ar'alani's eyes narrowed slightly; Eli'vanto gave her a defiant look. 

She pointed at him, then to Mitth'raw'nuruodo.

"Put it inside him," she said. "I want to watch you fuck him. I want us to make him moan."

Eli'vanto's eyes went wide. Beneath her, Mitth'raw'nuruodo groaned and drew her hips back down to his mouth, spreading his legs for Eli'vanto, who, to his credit, did not fumble as he slung Mitth'raw'nuruodo's legs over his shoulders and aligned himself with his entrance. 

Mitth'raw'nuruodo's _k'setim'i_ was waving frantically, begging for attention, but Ar'alani couldn't coordinate her hands properly when Mitth'raw'nuruodo's talented mouth was licking her the way he was. Nor could Eli'vanto, once he had pushed himself fully into Mitth'raw'nuruodo and started to thrust. What a fascinatingly alien motion, and how good it must feel—she could tell from the way Mitth'raw'nuruodo was groaning and quivering under her, his hands spasming on her thighs as he was fucked from both ends at once.

The sight of it, and the sound of Eli'vanto's stalk making wet noises every time he pulled out and thrust it back in, and the sensation of Mitth'raw'nuruodo's tongue on her _lzatim'i_ , all combined to draw out her pleasure in one shuddering, gasping climax, a beautiful release of tension starting deep within her and exploding. She ground down on his face, hard, and collapsed forward, barely catching herself and narrowly avoiding headbutting Eli'vanto.

"Was that good?" Eli'vanto asked. He was watching her avidly, and it occurred to Ar'alani that he found her attractive. Interesting, that humans were so indiscriminate with their desires.

Not that she had much room to talk, but then, in this regard she had always been a little different from the other Chiss. Perhaps she and Mitth'raw'nuruodo had more in common than she'd thought.

"Very," she replied. 

She rolled to the side and off Mith'raw'nuruodo, who was gasping and twitching; she wasn't the only one who had climaxed. Poor Eli'vanto. Perhaps Mitth'raw'nuruodo could take care of him later.

But now—now, she was still unsatisfied. The biological tug of the _vamsca'tut_ was still present, as it was for Mitth'raw'nuruodo, to judge by the hectic glow of his eyes. She knew what she wanted.

"Sit up," she told him, and he did so, grasping Eli'vanto's hand and allowing him to pull him up. They clasped hands for a moment, and Ar'alani felt apart from them, and oddly bereft for it.

Then Mitth'raw'nuruodo went to his knees and glanced back at her. In fact, they were both looking at her, like dancers waiting for their choreographer.

"You," she said to Eli'vanto, "on your back. And you—" this time to Mitth'raw'nuruodo, "On top."

From this angle, she could watch as Eli'vanto's stalk entered Mitth'raw'nuruodo, centimeter by aching centimeter. Her ovipositor twitched.

"Perfect," she breathed. "Now—Mitth'raw'nuruodo, can you handle both of us?"

A pause, then a nod.

"Good." And she was crowding behind him, her ovipositor seeking his heat.

The sensation of pressing it inside him, alongside Eli'vanto's stalk, was—inexpressible. Ar'alani gasped and clutched Mitth'raw'nuruodo's hips, digging her nails into his skin. Eli'vanto was thrusting slightly, as if incapable of holding himself still, and the pressure on her ovipositor from all sides was—

She groaned and buried her face in Mitth'raw'nuruodo's neck, her hips shuddering as her ovipositor squirmed inside him. Mitth'raw'nuruodo was making lovely whimpering sounds, stretched to the limit and taking it beautifully.

She told him so, and he gasped and leaned back against her. Below them both, Eli'vanto cried out and shuddered; she could feel the hot gush of liquid coating her ovipositor inside Mitth'raw'nuruodo, and also feel the stalk soften and withdraw. All the better to push Mitth'raw'nuruodo flat on top of Eli'vanto and fuck him, pressing in deep and letting her ovipositor work him over. 

She was arched above him, her sensitive nipples rubbing against his back as he squirmed, her hands braced on the bed next to him and Eli'vanto, who was stroking Mitth'raw'nuruodo's sides and murmuring things in _Basich_ to him.

"Maybe I'll put a child in you," she whispered in Cheunh into Mitth'raw'nuruodo's ear, meant for him alone. He liked the idea; he jerked and ground his hips back against her. She laughed softly and nipped at his earlobe, and said, "Perhaps I'll make you my consort in truth, and you can carry my child for me, for all the world to see—"

His body seized around her, and the pressure of his contracting muscles was all she needed to tip over the edge again, squeezing her eyes shut as tension snapped and crested within her.

When she finished, she pulled out of him, more gently than she had initially planned; he was worn out and shaking, truly a mess. She had never thought she would see Mitth'raw'nuruodo look this way—even if she had imagined it, which she had to confess to doing, once or twice, when they both were younger and knew each other better.

With a little sigh, she leaned back and stretched out her legs. The driving heat of _vamsca'tut_ was gone, leaving in its place a pleasurable lassitude that made her absolutely incapable of cleaning up the mess they'd made.

Eli'vanto did that for them, helping them both to the refresher and shower, washing Mitth'raw'nuruodo clean and offering the cleanser to Ar'alani with a wary expression, as if he thought he was overstepping by assisting her post-copulation.

Prior to _vamsca'tut_ , she would have said he was. But perhaps going through that with someone drew them closer together. That was how it worked with mated triads. But that was strictly biological—surely an alien could not be included?

Ar'alani's world briefly tilted as it occurred to her that centuries of Chiss lore might be incorrect—but that was something to study at the next _vamsca'tut_ , once Mitth'raw'nuruodo's body had determined it wasn't fertilized and they must try again. She would invite Eli'vanto then, too.

Clean and less shaky than before, they stripped the sheets off her bed together, and Eli'vanto and Mitth'raw'nuruodo curled up together. She sat next to them, knees pulled up to her chest, and gazed blankly into the distance, catching about every one in five of the Basich words they were saying to each other. Not enough to pick up the conversation.

"Admiral?"

She ignored the twinge of unpleasantness that came from hearing her title and said, "Yes, Eli'vanto?"

"You can just call me Eli," he said, a little hesitant. "It's easier. And I think we've, um, we're close enough for core names, don't you?"

Ar'alani looked at Mitth'raw'nuruodo, who stared back at her and gave a little shrug. Ar'alani inclined her head to both of them, gravely.

"You may call me Ara," she said. "Now, we must discuss what our next steps will be."

"A way to reincorporate me into the Defense Fleet," Mitth'raw'nuruodo—Thrawn—said immediately. "After debriefing, of course."

"Of course," Ar'alani and Eli chorused, and glanced at each other, startled.

This was going to be unusual, Ar'alani thought. She and Thrawn were known consorts now, but they would have to keep Eli's involvement secret. It could jeopardize her placement in the Defense Hierarchy. It could explode at any moment. It would be a delicate balancing act.

She found she was rather looking forward to the thrill of it.


End file.
